


future perfect

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-25
Updated: 2000-01-25
Packaged: 2018-11-11 02:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: RayK is having trouble sleeping, when Fraser finds out why, they end up on a case looking for a bomber





	future perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Standard disclaimer: All characters belong to Alliance. I don't own Ray Kowalski, Ray Vecchio, Harding Welsh, Diefenbaker, or any other character to be found on Due South. No money changed hands. I just borrowed them to play with for awhile.

Story summary: How to do this without giving away the story...hmm...Ray is having trouble sleeping. When Fraser finds out why they end up working a new case. Only the crime hasn't been committed yet.

Spoiler alert: None...some episodes referred to, but no details really given.

Feedback: Please. Let me know what you thought...liked, hated or just felt didn't work for you. Katherine_Lehman@blm.gov

Future Perfect 

Lieutenant Harding Welsh hummed quietly to himself as he made his way up the stairs. He was usually the first person in every morning. The early morning quiet between shifts was when he got most of his paperwork done. Once the day officially started there would be too many distractions for him to actually get much accomplished. 

Scanning the squad room, Welsh was not entirely surprised to see someone else had beaten him to the office. Detective Ray Vecchio, AKA Ray Kowalski, had been in the squad room before him for the last four days. Curious. Normally, Welsh would have applauded any effort on the part of his detectives to be diligent about getting the job done, but something suggested it wasn't just diligence that had Ray had beating him to the office every day this week.

Taking into consideration the generally empty state of the squad room, Welsh decided to forgo his usual yell and opted for a conversational voice. "Vecchio. My office. Now." The slender, blond detective didn't even raise his head from where he was focused on the computer screen. With a sigh, Welsh decided his usual yell was needed at all times, regardless of the unusual quiet of the room. "Vecchio!!"

Ray's head snapped up, and startled, blue eyes darting wildly for a moment before resting on Welsh.

"My office. Now!"

Welsh watched as the detective placed both hands on the desk to lever himself up. Ray generally radiated excess energy that bordered on being hyperactive. It was one of those mystifying things; like the way Constable Benton Fraser never seemed to ever get rumpled or dirty. Welsh had never seen Ray lacking in energy, no matter how long the day had been. Until now, he strongly suspected that Ray was akin to that stupid pink rabbit on those battery commercials. And even though Ray crossed the squad room with his usual speed, something about his movements suggested the energy was forced and not flowing as it usually did. 

Welsh gave the younger man before him an appraising look. He was dressed in his standard t-shirt, sweatshirt, and jeans. His hair was spiked in its typical wild disarray. His badge was secured to his shoulder hostler, and his glasses dangled casually from the neck of his sweatshirt. The customary three days worth of stubble was normal. But the dark circles under his eyes, and the general air of exhaustion which surrounded him were definitely not normal. 

Welsh got right to the point. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Uh...my job, sir." Ray spoke with some hesitation, and looked confused.

"Correct me if I am wrong, but doesn't your shift usually begin at eight thirty?"

"It does."

"By my watch detective that is still a good two hours from now. You want to explain to me why you're here well before your shift is supposed to start? "

Ray shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shrugged one shoulder, before finally saying, "I couldn't sleep. Figured I might as well be doing something constructive."

"I see." Welsh gave that statement a moment's consideration. "By my count, detective, you have been in early every day this week. You gonna tell me this week is just one long case of insomnia?"

Ray looked at the floor. "Something like that."

Whenever Ray couldn't make eye contact it was a safe bet the younger man was lying or at the very least not being completely honest. Welsh sighed. He knew from past experience that Ray could be extraordinarily tight lipped about certain things. You couldn't get information out of him with anything less than a crowbar if he wasn't willing to talk. The well-being of the men on under his command was a duty Welsh took very seriously, so he was determined to try to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering the slender blond. 

"You got a case that's bugging you?"

"No, Sir. Not really. Nothin' other than the usual."

"Problems with the Assistant State's Attorney?"

Ray looked up, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Stella? Haven't talked ta her in close ta a month."

"Your parents are okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine. Getting used to bein' back in Chicago."

"Things okay between you and Big Red?"

"Yeah, me and Fraser are cool." 

Ray was looking at the floor again. Welsh thought about that. There hadn't been any obvious animosity between them of late...at least no more than usual. Welsh wasn't privy to all the details, but after both Ray and Fraser turned down the transfers they'd been offered during the Henry Allen case, the partnership seemed to have recovered. In fact, they seemed to be working together even better than they had before. Welsh had to admit that Ray and Fraser had an odd, but very effective partnership. One that worked as well, if not better, than the one Fraser had with the "real" Ray Vecchio. 

"So...other than not being able to sleep for the last four days," Welsh stressed the number slightly, "things are good."

Ray nodded, giving Welsh a small half-smile. "Basically."

"And the reason you can't sleep is....?"

Ray just shrugged. "Happens sometimes. No big deal, Sir." 

"It could very well be a big deal, Vecchio. This insomnia of yours....what if it starts interfering with your ability to do the job? Some one, yourself included, could get killed out there!" Welsh scowled. The last thing he wanted was to read some report that detailed how one of his detectives had gotten killed because said detective was too tired to give the situation his full attention.

A spark of anger flared in Ray's eyes. "I'm not that tired. I'm not so much of a screw up that I can't do my job. Wouldn't be here if I didn't think I could do it."

Welsh knew Ray meant what he said, but all too often the younger man's assessment of his own condition was less than accurate. Welsh knew Ray was a tough little shit. He had seen him take all the abuse the job regularly handed out and come back for more. Ray might not be as idealistic as his Mountie partner, but he definitely shared the "never say die" mentality that made them both so good at their jobs. It also made them both incredibly stubborn.

"You're sure?" Welsh asked quietly. 

Ray made eye contact, held it, and nodded. "I'm good ta go."

"Anything changes...you let me know. That is an order, Detective. Not a request. We clear?"

"Crystal, Sir." 

Ray turned to leave, but Welsh's calling his name stopped him in the doorway. "You show up two hours early...I expect you to leave early today." Welsh watched as Ray stiffened. "I am not paying out overtime just because you can't sleep." 

Ray cast a sly glance over his shoulder and a quick smile. "Didn't think you would, Lieutenant. Didn't think you would." 

**********************************************************************

Constable Benton Fraser politely held the door to the 27th district open for several people. At just past 11:00 am the station house was home to its typical range of humanity, and the general din that accompanied them. Fraser shook his head, and mentally braced himself to deal with it. It never ceased to amaze him how many people could find this chaotic situation normal. Over the years he'd gotten used to it, learned to adjust to it, but he had doubts about his ever thinking of it as normal. 

Fraser walked calmly through the crowd, his mind reviewing the cases he and Ray had been working on. Consular duties had kept him busy and way from the precinct for the past few days. Lost in his thoughts, Fraser was surprised to meet Welsh in the hallway. 

"Constable...could I have a word with you? Privately?" The lieutenant motioned toward the supply closet.

"Certainly, Leftenant." Fraser entered the closet. It wasn't the first time that it had been utilized for a private conversation. Welsh pulled the string attached to the overhead light. Fraser noted his serious expression. The last time he'd had a conversation in this closet with Welsh, over a year ago, had resulted in Fraser spending the day tracking down his errant partner. Fraser felt just a twinge of unease.

"I need to ask you a few questions, Constable."

"Understood."

"Everything okay between you and Ray?"

"So far as I know, Sir. I spoke to him briefly this morning by phone, and everything seemed normal at that time."

"When was the last time you saw him?

"11:52 pm Monday night. Ray and I had the early surveillance shift of the DeBurke warehouse. Detectives Huey and Dewey relieved us at eleven and Ray dropped me off at the consulate. Consular duties have given me very little free time since then, I'm afraid." 

"He seemed okay to you?"

Fraser paused, frowning slightly. "He was a little quiet. Perhaps a bit tense. Not entirely unexpected given the nature of the stakeout, but nothing seemed amiss at the time." This line of questioning was beginning to make Fraser apprehensive. Had something happened to Ray? No, that couldn't be possible. They had spoken over the phone just this morning when Fraser called to let Ray know what time he'd be free. Ray had seemed a little distracted, but otherwise fine. Still, Welsh seemed concerned. "Leftenant? Is there something wrong?"

Welsh sighed and rubbed one hand over his face. "I am not entirely sure. Ray's been to the office early every day this week. Now, normally, I am impressed if any of my detectives just make it here on time...and Ray getting in early..." Welsh shook his head. "Not just a few minutes early, Constable. Its more like hours before his shifts starts. I thought maybe he was working a case. But I when I talked to him this morning, he said he couldn't sleep, and figured he'd come to work to do something constructive." 

"Using one's time productively is to be commended, Sir."

Welsh shot Fraser a dirty look. "I don't have a problem with him being productive. I have a problem with the fact that the man looks like he hasn't had a good nights sleep in days. Ray said its just a bout of insomnia, but I don't think that's all there is to it. Cops don't have trouble sleeping for no good reason, Fraser. None of his cases are giving him trouble. He isn't having difficulty with his ex. His family is okay. Only thing I thought might be wrong was between the two of you. Hadn't seen you for a couple of days...thought, well, maybe the two of you had another falling out of some kind."

Fraser shook his head. "No. We have been working well together for some time." Fraser hesitated a moment before continuing. "Sir, if I maybe so forward...perhaps you are overreacting. Has anyone else noticed--" Fraser stopped abruptly when Welsh raised his hand.

"Most of the guys here are wrapped up in their own cases, I sincerely doubt they would have noticed much of anything. Besides which, it isn't their responsibility. It is mine. I stand by my detectives. If one of them is having a problem, I want it handled. After you see him today, then you can tell me if you still think I am overreacting. If I'm not, then I want you to get him to talk to you. You're probably the only one he would talk to anyway." Welsh turned to toward the door, opening it before turning to look back at Fraser. "I told him that since he was here early, that I expected him to leave early. I want you to make sure he does."

"Understood."

Welsh nodded and left the closet. Fraser turned out the light and followed, thinking about what Welsh had said. Surely if Ray were having trouble of some kind he would have said something. They were friends after all. Partners. Fraser considered that. They had been communicating very well of late. Their cases were, if anything, rather mundane recently. Since the jewelry theft his friend, Quinn, had been involved in nearly three weeks ago, things had been quiet. Well, Fraser mentally amended, as quiet as they ever got in Chicago.

Fraser paused inside the door way of the squad room. He scanned the room, seeking Ray. He finally spotted his partner sitting at a computer in the back of the room. Ray was motionless, focusing intently on what ever was being displayed on the screen, ignoring everything going on around him. Fraser paused. Ray always seemed to be a bundle of energy, constantly in motion, even when sitting still. His current lack of animation was, well, uncharacteristic. 

Fraser casually approached Ray, deftly weaving his way through the crowded room. He stood just off to the right and a little behind Ray, reading the computer screen over his shoulder. Ray was scrolling down at a speed that left little doubt he wasn't really reading anything written there. Odd. If he wasn't reading it, why was he staring at it so intently? 

There were pictures of men Fraser assumed were criminals of some kind. Ray was scrolling to fast for Fraser to catch any of the particulars. It reminded him of watching Ray using the TV remote to surf the channels. 

"Ray."

No answer. That didn't surprise Fraser. It was rare that Ray ever answered the first call of his name.

"Ray." Ray continued to study the screen.

"Ray." Finally whatever Ray was studying came to an end. As Ray leaned back into his chair Fraser caught the look of frustration and resignation that passed briefly over Ray's face.

"Ray." Ray looked up and gave him a tired smile. Fraser immediately noticed the dark circles under slightly blood shot eyes. Welsh hadn't exaggerated when he said Ray looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Hey, Frase. Thought you weren't going ta be here until after eleven."

"It is after eleven, Ray."

Ray looked at his watch. "So it is. Time just flies when yer havin' fun." 

"What were working on, Ray? Perhaps I might be of assistance."

Ray rose smoothly to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. "Not something you could help with, Frase. Thanks for the offer though." Ray walked over to his desk. He picked up a cup of coffee, and sipped it, grimacing slightly at the taste. Fraser noticed that the desk was virtually clear. In fact this was the first time Fraser could honestly remember being able to see the top of the desk. 

"Looks like you've been busy."

Ray was still looking disgustedly at his coffee. He glanced over at Fraser raising eyebrows slightly. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Fraser nodded at the desk. "Your desk. It's clean."

Ray glanced at the desk as though seeing it for the first time. "Yeah, well...with you not bein' free ta work with me, and things bein' kind of slow, I had time ta clear up some stuff."

"Only some, Ray? I had no idea that you actually had a desk under all that paper." 

"Okay, a lot." Ray flashed a grin at him. "I can do it, ya know. I just don't like to." 

Fraser nodded and smiled slightly. "I never thought you couldn't." 

Ray's phone rang. "Vecchio." There was a small pause. "Hey, you got back to me in record time. Nothing like speedy service." Another pause. "Ya find anything?" Ray's tone indicated more than just casual interest in the answer to his question. Ray closed his eyes while he listened. He raised a hand to rub tiredly over his eyes. The look of frustration and resignation reappeared. Ray was obviously disappointed by whatever the caller was saying. Fraser had to stifle the urge to eavesdrop. It wouldn't have done him much good anyway because whoever Ray was talking to didn't speak nearly as loudly as Lieutenant Welsh was wont to do. 

"Thanks, Manny. I appreciate it." 

Fraser mentally reviewed mutual acquaintances. He didn't know anyone named Manny and didn't know of anyone Ray knew by that name. None of their current cases involved anyone by that name. Maybe this was on of Ray's snitches that Fraser hadn't met. 

Something 'Manny' said made Ray chuckle. "Un-hunh. Riiight. By my count you still owe me one." 

Ray hung up, and seemed momentarily lost in thought. Fraser recognized his expression as one Ray sometimes got when he was debating internally with himself. Ray pulled a thick file from the bottom of the stack remaining on his desk. He looked hard at the file he was holding, then at Fraser. He seemed to be weighing something carefully. 

Having seen his partner, Fraser had to admit Welsh had not overreacted. There was definitely something wrong, and Fraser wanted to help. He knew there was a possibility that Ray might choose not to confide in him. He found himself holding his breath, afraid that Ray's measuring look might find him to be inadequate in some way. Ray's eyes narrowed as he studied Fraser. He cocked his head to one side, before nodding slightly. 

Ray finally spoke, "Wanna grab an early lunch?"

Fraser readily agreed with an internal sigh of relief. He had evidently passed whatever mental evaluation Ray had been performing. Most of their truly substantive conversations took place over food. Ray would talk to him more freely somewhere other than the station. 

Ray grabbed his jacket, still carrying the file, headed for the door. Fraser walked beside Ray. They naturally fell into step with one another, something that never ceased to amaze Fraser. That they could be so different, and yet fall into step with such ease. They were not just in step physically, even their respective styles were complimentary. Fraser was logical, intelligent and careful precision. While Ray was instinctive, street-wise and decisive action.

Outside the station house, Ray paused, taking a deep breath. He seemed to sway slightly before continuing toward the GTO. Fraser noticed that in the harsh light of day, Ray looked even more worn out than he had in the squad room. What could have happened in the last few days? 

"Ray? Are you all right?"

"Yeah...no...maybe. Ah hell, I don't really know any more, Fraser." Ray laughed suddenly, and waved one hand in an expansive gesture. "Nice complete answer that. Covers all the bases." Ray shook his head, glancing over at his partner. "Sorry, Fraser. I'm tired. I get stupid when that happens."

Fraser decided not to tell Ray that he'd spoken to Welsh. "Why are you tired?"

"It's been a real long day."

"It is still relatively early, Ray."

Ray paused as he opened the passenger side door. "Yeah. Early. But time's running out fast."

Fraser wasn't sure what to make of that cryptic comment. 

***********************************************************************

Ray sat for a moment in the driver's seat trying to collect his thoughts. God, but he was tired. He could feel the weight of Fraser's concerned stare. He thought this was something he could handle on his own. No reason to involve is oh-so-logical partner. Mentally Ray snorted in disgust. Right now he was out of options. Fraser might be able to figure out what he was missing. 

The thought of having to explain everything to Fraser made Ray's stomach clench. The whole thing was crazy. Always had been. He wasn't sure he could convince his by the book friend to be open minded about this. Saying anything was just asking for trouble. It always had been. What if Fraser decided his stupid partner had finally slipped around the bend? That he should be locked up in a room with padded walls? 

Ray had already weighed his options while standing by his desk. He might lose the best friend he'd ever had if he couldn't convince Fraser that he was on the level. Fraser was without a doubt the smartest person he'd ever met, and if he could convince Fraser to help him, together they just might be able to prevent a disaster. If he didn't get some reliable help, a lot of people were going to end up hurt. Ray had already aggressively pursued every other option. He was desperate.

Ray looked over at his patiently waiting partner. "We need to talk."

"I suspected as much, Ray."

"I'm not even sure where to start."

"The beginning is usually a good place." Fraser offered.

"That will make for one long story, Benton buddy."

"I am not unfamiliar with long stories, Ray."

"Yeah, but you're usually the one tellin' 'em." Ray rubbed both hands over his face. "Sorry. In addition to gettin' stupid when I'm tired, I also get a little snarky." Ray started the car. "Let's do this at my place."

The drive to Ray's apartment only took twenty minutes. Longest twenty minutes of Ray's life. Ushering Fraser into his apartment, it occurred to Ray that a member of their partnership was missing. "Where's Dief?" 

//Nice stalling tactic, Kowalski. Nothing like trying to avoid the inevitable.// 

"I left him at the consulate."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "What he'd do?"

Fraser raised a hand to rub a knuckle over an eyebrow. "Inspector Thatcher was very angry with Diefenbaker for shedding hair on her new suit. He ate half of the spiced rum cake her mother sent, I believe as a way of getting back at her for....well, for her calling him a 'flea ridden, fur-shedding mongrel'."

Ray grinned evilly. "Serves her right. 'Sides, I don't see the problem. I mean he did leave half for the Ice Queen, right?"

Fraser gave Ray a reproving look. "It is the principle of the thing, Ray. Diefenbaker should be above such petty displays of temper."

"Suure. Principles." Ray chuckled and then sobered, eyebrows lowering a small frown. "We might need him later."

"If we do, I can suspend his punishment briefly. What is it that you feel Dief might be needed for?"

"I'll get to that in a minute. It's part of that long story thing. Go ahead an' sit down." Ray placed the file on the counter. He removed his jacket, carelessly tossing it to the back of a kitchen chair. He could see Fraser looking at him expectantly. Time to bite the bullet. "Frase....you know that outside of claiming to be Vecchio I have never lied to you. Least wise never about anything important. You know that, right?"

Fraser looked confused, as if this wasn't the opening he was expecting. "Yes, Ray. I know that."

"Good...Good." Ray took a deep breath, and force himself to sit down across the table from Fraser. "Okay...you said to start this from the beginning, but I am not really sure when it all started. I think it was when I was a kid. Anyway, the last time I tried to explain this...well, let's just say it didn't go over too well. Words and me...we don't exactly get along, so maybe I didn't do a great job the last time. Probably won't to a great job this time either." When Fraser reached across the table to grab Ray by the wrist, Ray stopped speaking abruptly. 

"Ray, it is okay. Whatever it is you have to say, I will listen. Don't worry. Please. Just tell me whatever it is as best you can."

Ray looked up from the table and made eye contact. Fraser's warm blue eyes radiated friendship, patience, and concern. He swallowed hard and nodded. Fraser continued to hold his wrist, his thumb stroking the back of Ray's hand lightly. The contact was surprisingly reassuring. 

"What I got to tell you is going to sound crazy...hell, it happens to me and some times I don't believe it, so there isn't any reason for you to believe I'm tellin' the truth, except that I have never lied to you." Ray realized he was babbling, and firmly reined both his thoughts and his voice. "I don't just have good instincts, Fraser. Sometimes its more than that. Sometimes a lot more."

"Meaning?" Fraser's voice was gentle. 

"Meaning, that every once in awhile I have dreams. Not just your run of the mill, brain processing junk from the day, imagination running wild kind of dreams. Dreams that...well...they sort of show me..." Ray took a deep breath. "They kind of give me a glimpse into the future."

Ray couldn't look at Fraser. He was about to get up from the table, but Fraser tightened his grip on Ray's wrist. Ray didn't wait for Fraser to say anything.

"Look, I know how that sounds. Believe me, I know. It's nuts. Not the kind of thing you'd expect from someone like me. I can't tell you what tomorrow's winning lottery numbers are. Never got anything that useful or I would have used it long before now. And I am not one of those call in, 1-900, "I'll give you your life story" kind of wanna be psychics. I have never tracked down a missing person with anything other than good detective skills and old fashioned hard work. Don't read auras...not even sure what one is. Never tried to tell anyone's fortune. I don't really care what is going to happen in the love life of stars. And I-"

Ray stopped speaking when he realized that Fraser had been calling his name repeatedly. With a sigh, he also stopped his so far futile efforts to pull away from the grip Fraser had on his wrist. He waited for his partner to say something. When nothing was immediately forthcoming, Ray looked up. He was surprised when he didn't read any disbelief on the Mountie's face.

"Ray, it might help if you told me about the dreams. Are you sure they aren't purely coincidental? It is possible that your dreams only appear to be prophetic. That after events have occurred your interpretation of said dreams leads you to believe that they some how revealed the future."

Having Fraser find a nice rational explanation wasn't entirely unexpected. Ray grimaced. Unfortunately rational definitely didn't cut it, and he was going to have to convince his very logical partner of that. Fraser said asked him to tell him about the dreams. Maybe an example or two would help. Ray locked eyes with his best friend and started talking.

"Frase...It wasn't just paranoia or good instinct that I was wearing a vest the day we met. I had a dream the night before. It was sort of like watching a super fast slide show. Very little sound, just quick glimpses of pictures."

"I kept seeing fire. Then a building I have never been to. Found out later that was your apartment building. Knew the address from Vecchio's files, but I'd never been there. Never needed to visit with you still in Canada. Other images were just weird. Modern art of some kind. A scene from an old black and white movie. The whole dream had this feeling of...it was like something bad was going to happen. Something really bad. One image that really stuck with me was seeing you. I knew who you were cause they showed me pictures."

"And what about me?" Fraser's voice was still gentle, and he had gone back to lightly stroking Ray's hand.

"Saw you get shot. Knew the shooter was a woman...never saw her face, just knew. Ya know? And I hadn't even met you yet, but I just knew it would be a really bad thing if you died there. Vecchio's file said he'd taken a bullet for you before, and since I was going to be Vecchio for awhile I thought I'd better be prepared ta do the same." 

Ray sighed softly. He'd been envious when he'd read that. To have a friend go all out for you was not something Ray had ever experienced before. He'd never told anyone but that had been one of the deciding factors to his accepting the undercover assignment.

"Thing is, Frase....I am not real big on pain or on dying either for that matter. Didn't want this assignment to be my last. You gotta understand, Benton Buddy, if it hadn't been for that dream I wouldn't have been wearing a vest. I don't regularly wear it, and I haven't put it on since." 

Fraser had paled slightly, a small frown appearing while Ray was talking. "You saw me get shot." It was a statement, not a question.

Ray nodded warily. He hadn't expected Fraser to react to that. The man risked his life in bizarre ways all the time, so why should one little bullet be much cause for concern. 

"My god, Ray, you hadn't even met me yet, and everything I put you through that day...., " Fraser swallowed hard. He looked to be slightly awed when he said, "You were prepared to take a bullet for me. That's...I just don't know what to...that was very brave. I don't believe I ever thanked you for that."

Ray felt a faint flush of embarrassment. "Yeah, well...yer welcome. Look, Frase...I only mentioned it so you would understand that I ain't makin' this up."

"That may have been one isolated occurrence." You could trust the Mountie not to get distracted for long. One of the good things about having him for a partner. 

"It wasn't. Remember me coming through the window on that motorcycle?" At Fraser's nod, Ray continued. "I knew where you and Quinn were gonna be. I wasn't really worried about hittin' you or him. Knew if we waited around for SWAT ta show, you'd be dead. I saw that." A delicate shudder ran the length of Ray's frame. The picture of Fraser lying dead in a pool of his own blood was still incredibly vivid. 

"Riding the bike through a window didn't seem that big of a risk. Beat the alternative at any rate. I also knew Quinn had the stuff. You made him seem like an up-standing kind of guy, and I figured since he was a friend of yours that I should let you handle it. I know you give everyone the benefit of the doubt, look for the best in people, but after I met him, I couldn't really see him as a thief either. Figured you'd either get him to turn himself in, or he'd do it on his own. No worry for me either way."

Ray smiled ruefully. "Thing I wished I'd seen was my parents coming back to Chicago. Like I said, I don't get a lot of stuff useful to me personally. Although being able to save your life is really pretty useful. "

Fraser smiled slightly at that. "Indeed." 

Ray waited. Fraser had that look. The one he had when he was going to say something he suspected Ray wouldn't like. "I talked to the Leftenant this morning." 

Ray wasn't really surprised. "Yeah. Me too."

"He thinks you've got a case of insomnia. That isn't the problem. Is it?"

"Not all that far from the truth, Fraser." Ray shrugged one shoulder. "After I have one of these dreams...I can't go back to sleep. And this one is a bad one."

"How bad?"

"Let's do this in the living room. More comfortable." And more room to pace. Ray got up from the table. Reaching out with his left hand, Ray took the file he'd placed on the counter earlier. He motioned for Fraser to sit on the couch, and laid the file on the coffee table. Ray began to pace slowly back and forth. 

"Most of the time I get these dreams like maybe a day or two before something happens. Dreams that happen with a longer time frame are less detailed. Those are kind of fuzzy or even more disjointed than normal. Pictures from the close ones are pretty clear most of the time even though I don't always get the message that they represent. With the Greta Garbo case most everything was a done deal by the time I had the dream. She'd already been in contact with Motherwell. You were already on your way back to Chicago. Your apartment was already wired to burn, same with the Riv and the Vecchio house. All the players were already committed to a course of action. So the outcome that I saw was pretty much going ta be a done deal. You with me so far?"

"If I understand what you're saying correctly is that you believe that as the variables become more fixed the outcome becomes more predictable. Dreams that are occurring fairly close to the actual events they are more reliable, and hence more clear." 

Ray flashed a quick grinned. "Got it in one." He stopped pacing to face Fraser. "This new one started out a couple of days ago. At first all I got was a couple of blurry images, really....ah..intense feelings of fear and danger. There was an explosion and...dead bodies and pieces of bodies everywhere." Ray had to force his mind away from that image. "At first, I thought it might be just one of those weird dreams everyone has once in awhile. But it didn't feel right, and I couldn't go back to sleep. Ended up just going to work and trying to get stuff done. Had the same dream again the next night, except now it got clearer, more details. I saw the bomb that time." 

Ray reached down and opened the file. The first sheet was covered with his own handwriting describing the bomb he'd seen. He handed it to Fraser. Underneath that were several pages detailing how such a bomb was constructed, and how it could be disarmed.

"I went looking for info on the bomb. Thought it might come in handy to know how to disarm it myself if worse came to worse."

Ray watched a Fraser thoughtfully perused the information before him. "Thing is, I can't be sure if that is the real bomb, or just what my brain conjured up cause that's how I think a bomb should look. What I know about explosives...well, it ain't much. Called a friend I have who used ta work with the bomb squad. He's with ATF now."

"The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms?"

"Yeah. Figured Manny might be able to tell me more about bombs. Knew he wouldn't ask any questions about why I wanted to know. Thought he could point me in the right direction about how to diffuse most of them, in case it turned out to be different. Some of the stuff in that file is what he suggested." 

Ray paused, shaking his head. " I still don't have a clue as to what building this guy wants to blow up or why. I had Manny see if there were any of those weird anti-government type groups suddenly getting active in the area. Asked him to check and see if anything that could be used as a bomb had turned up missing recently. Stuff like C-4 or good old fashioned dynamite. ATF sometimes gets a line on reports of stuff stolen or purchased in large quantities."

"Ray, wouldn't that be something more along the lines of what the FBI might handle. Domestic terrorism is really more their area."

"Sure, but my relationship with the FBI hasn't exactly been what you could call stellar. And Manny has friends he can ask. People who would be more willing ta talk to him than ta me."

"Ahh. That would be what the call this morning was about."

Ray nodded, and went back to pacing. "Dead end. Problem is the stuff could have been purchased legitimately, or it might never haven been reported as stolen. Or the guy might not have even actually acquired it yet." 

Fraser frowned. Ray could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Before he let Fraser say anything though, he had to fill him in on the rest. "I had the dream again last night. This time I got a face. Went to see our sketch artist and had him draw a picture for me. He wasn't real happy to see me at two o'clock in the morning." 

"This is the man you saw?" Fraser pulled another piece of paper from the file. He held up a sketch of a middle-aged Caucasian man. His features were heavy, with a bend in his nose indicating it had been broken once or twice. His hair was thinning on top and he was wearing dark framed glasses.

Ray nodded. "That's him. Even though I can't put it out over the wire cause no crimes actually been committed yet, I thought it might be worth it ta have a picture of him. I spent all morning looking for him in the computer, hoping a name would pop up to go with the face." Ray collapsed gracelessly into a chair. "Even knowing just how many guys have got records, I couldn't believe it would take so long to go through all of them. Started looking just for guys with a history using explosives. When that didn't pan out, I went through the data base by race, eliminated anyone younger than twenty five. Still got nada. Either he doesn't have a record, isn't in our system or I missed him."

"What can I do to help?"

Ray felt some nervous tension drain away. Fraser was willing to help. He didn't know for sure if Fraser actually believed him or not, but if the Mountie was offering his assistance, then Ray knew he could expect his friend to put forth his best effort. Suddenly this case didn't seem quite so hopeless.

"Thanks, Frase. I wrote down everything from the dream I could remember. It's at the bottom of the file. And I put together every lead that I could come up with. Talked to everyone I thought might be able to help without me havin' to explain too much. Right now I am out of options. I need you to go through all of that and tell me if there is something I missed. Something obvious that I just overlooked." 

Fraser frowned thoughtfully at the file for a moment. "On our way over here...You said we were running out of time. How do you know?"

"Like I said, the close dreams always come in clear. And this one is getting clearer all the time."

*******************************************************************

Nearly three hours later, Fraser was going through the file for a second time. Ray had gone through it with him the first time, before finally giving into exhaustion and sleeping soundly in the chair. Not the most comfortable of places, but after Ray indicated he hadn't slept more than a few hours a night for the past four days, Fraser really didn't have the heart to wake him. The rest would do him good. And Fraser could handle additional review of the file alone.

Fraser was stunned by the level of detail and methodical approach Ray had taken to this case. Every aspect of the dream was written down, every single detail, no matter how minor. Various translations of the dream were also written down and explored. Ray had collected a truly impressive amount of detail on bombs: their construction, various components, and how to defuse them. Every snitch Ray had talked to seeking information on the street. Every favor Ray had called in from someone in the hopes of finding out what the target might be, or even who the mystery man was. It was all documented and organized.

Fraser shook his head. It had never occurred to him that his partner could take such a logical approach to such an illogical event. He wasn't entirely convinced that Ray's dreams were genuinely prophetic, the level of effort Ray had put forth certainly indicated Ray had no doubts. Ray's revelations about previous dreams and how he'd acted on them were decidedly facts worth considering.

Ray's disclosure about a dream being the reason he wore a vest they day they'd met had staggered Fraser. It wasn't the possible foretelling that had hit him so hard. Although, that was certainly a fact worth pondering. What left Fraser momentarily at a loss for words was that Ray had been fully prepared to take a bullet for him. Him...a total stranger. A person who'd just spent most of that day trying to prove Ray was not in fact who he claimed to be. Fraser had been impressed with what he'd considered a spontaneous act of bravery, but to find out Ray knew in advance...that Ray had actually *planned* to take a bullet for him. It was as Ray would say "mind blowing".

In hindsight it made perfect sense that Ray hadn't recklessly rode a motorcycle through that window. Despite his often impulsive nature, Ray tended to be more cautious where physical danger was concerned than Fraser. Not that he wasn't brave or willing to undertake whatever action the situation called for, he just considered the alternatives before rushing blindly in. Fraser had worked with Ray long enough to know that Ray would never undertake any action he felt might endanger some one else. As Lt. Welsh had pointed out, going through the window was risky when there really was no way Ray could have been certain as to the location of Fraser and Quinn. But Ray had no doubts as to their location. It could very well have been more than just good instinct.

Fraser's thoughts were cut short by a soft moan from Ray. Ray moved restlessly and then grew still again. He really should be napping somewhere he could stretch out. The chair really wasn't designed to comfortably accommodate Ray's efforts to sleep. If he stayed in his current position for much longer, Ray would definitely wake up with a stiff neck.

Fraser rose to his feet intending to wake Ray and suggest his moving to the bedroom when Ray jerked awake suddenly with a small cry. In one swift move Ray was on his feet, fists at the ready, his breath coming in harsh pants. His eyes darted wildly about the apartment for a moment before coming to rest on Fraser. Fraser watch with concern as Ray closed his eyes and began to tremble. 

"Ray?" Softly, he didn't want to startle him.

Ray sucked in a ragged breath, his face very pale. Both hands came up to rub over his face and through his hair. The trembling got worse.

"Ray?"

Fraser moved toward his friend. He reached out to gently lay a hand on Ray's shoulder. He could feel the tension running through the lean body. 

"Ray?"

Finally Ray opened his eyes.

"Are you all right?"

"Had the dream again. It's a school, Fraser."

"What?"

"The building he's gonna blow up...it's a school."

"Close your eyes. " Ray didn't even question the order he simply obeyed it. "Now breath deep. In..Good. Now...out. Okay...I want you to start from the beginning. Tell me everything that you saw." Fraser gently massaged the shoulder on which his hand still rested.

"Saw an old brick building. Don't know if it was really old....just sort of felt old. Like it had lots of history. Didn't get a name. I saw the students...older than grade school age...junior high...no, older..definitely high school. All of them were wearin' uniforms. Girls had on plaid skirts, blue jackets that had some kind of gold trim. Boys had dress slacks, sweaters...same blue as the jackets, same gold trim." Ray shook his head slightly, a small frown appeared. "Time of day was all wrong....clock on the building said eight, but I knew it was night. Kids wouldn't be at school then. Some kind of banner...I couldn't read it, but it felt like..." Ray huffed out a frustrated sigh. He would have moved away, but Fraser maintained his gentle, yet firm grip on Ray's shoulder.

"Easy, Ray. Just take your time. What about the banner?" 

"Okay...okay. The banner was blue...yellow letters. Don't know if it means anything or not, but it felt like if I could have read it, I'd know what the kids were doing at a school so late." Ray swallowed hard, and drew in a shaky breath. "Next thing I saw was the guy I saw before. He's actually got the bomb...in his hands. Same one I saw before....clearer this time. I can see the timer..but he hasn't set it yet. He is walking down a hallway. It's dark. Voices from above...nothing clear. Kind of like...best way I can think to describe it, is like sitting at my desk at the twenty-seventh...you know how you can kind of hear what's going on upstairs but its just noise, can't tell who's talking or what they're saying?"

"Yes, Ray. I know what you mean."

Ray nodded. "Good. I think where ever this guy is he's on a lower floor. Basement..maybe. Not sure. Next thing I see is him leaving...back down the same hallway, only he doesn't have the bomb with him this time. I don't know where he left it. Explosion. Big...really big. Then...then I see..." Ray paused. He opened his eyes, and Fraser could easily read the horror in their pale blue depths. When he spoke again, Ray's voice was a hoarse whisper. "I saw bodies everywhere. So much blood. They were just kids, Frase. Just kids."

Fraser helped him sit down in the chair as Ray's knees began to give way. Any case involving children had a rather dramatic impact on him. Fraser didn't know if it was because he had so very much wanted children of his own, or if it was something else that made such cases so intensely personal for Ray. 

"Ray...I'm going to get you a cup of something hot to drink. Will you be okay for a minute?"

Ray made a vain attempt at smiling. "Not ta worry, Frase. I'm good. " At Fraser's stern look, Ray looked at the floor. "Okay, I'm not good. But I'm not gonna shatter....didn't you say something about coffee?"

"No, I said something about getting you a hot drink. I really don't think you need the caffeine at the moment. I was thinking more along the lines of tea." 

Fraser was relieved when Ray made a face at that. Ray rarely drank tea. His reaction was a sure sign that the shock of seeing the bodies of dead children, even if only in a dream, was wearing off. Fraser went to the kitchen, and prepared a cup of tea for both of them. He knew Ray kept several different types and brands on hand simply because Fraser liked tea. He added several spoon fulls of sugar to Ray's knowing that he liked it sweet. 

Fraser watched as Ray quietly sipped his tea. The trembling had stopped and Ray's color looked better. The haunted look on his face was being replaced by one of determination.

"We gotta find this guy, Frase. This is the clearest dream yet. We got less than a day...I can feel that much."

"Let's start with the new information."

"Good a place as any I guess."

"You said the children you saw looked old enough to be high school age. So we can safely eliminate grade schools."

"Okay. That still leaves a lot of schools in Chicago."

"Right you are. But you also said that the students were wearing uniforms. Blue and gold. It shouldn't be too difficult to track down those high schools with a dress code. "

"Dress code....no. Fraser, not a dress code. Private school. Those uniforms were from a private school." Ray grinned. "That is great. Greatness, Fraser." Ray put his cup on the table, and stood up, all indications of his former exhaustion and shock temporarily banished. "Come on. Lets get back to the office. It'll be easier to track information down there." 

Ray was already on his way to the kitchen, grabbing his jacket off the chair where he'd left it earlier. Fraser gathered up the file from the coffee table and followed his eagerly moving partner, snatching up his Stetson as he left. It never ceased to amaze him how rapidly Ray could shift emotional gears. He'd just gone from despair and desperation, to excitement and joy. It was enough to make Fraser dizzy. 

They were on in the GTO for a few minutes when Fraser realized Ray wasn't heading toward the station house. "Where are we going?"

"To pick up Dief. I am hoping he can sniff out the bomb, once we figure out what school." Ray glanced over at Fraser. "I never saw where he put the damn thing. Dief can sniff out a bomb, right? I mean I realize he isn't exactly a police trained, K-9 type dog..er...wolf." Ray waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Whatever. I figure that he ought to be smart enough ta track it down. He can read lips in three languages fer cryin' out loud. This ought ta be a piece of cake. So he can do it, right?"

"Yes, Ray. Dief should be able to track down the bomb. Is that what you had in mind earlier when you said we might need him?"

Ray laid a finger on the tip of his nose. "Got it in one."

Dief was overjoyed to see them. Fraser's reminder that this was only a brief reprieve didn't dampen the wolf's enthusiasm. Being left at the consulate was not really punishment to the wolf. Being denied access to Ray most definitely was. Ray was a member of his pack. A side benefit of that relationship, Ray gave him doughnuts.

Ray and Fraser fell into step in the parking lot at the 27th district. Fraser realized that it was close to five o'clock. The lot was practically empty. The general bustle of the station house, however, appeared undiminished. 

"Frase, you start looking for private schools that have a uniform with blue an' gold colors. I'm gonna get a cup of coffee. Ya want anything?"

"No, I'm fine, Ray. Thank you kindly for asking." Fraser tried to call back Dief, but the wolf ignored him. The break room was always an interesting place for Dief. Especially when Frannie had likely left of the day. 

Fraser sat down at the computer. He'd only just begun the search when Ray returned with a cup of coffee and a candy bar. "I hope you didn't give any chocolate to Dief."

Ray leaned casually on the desk, looking over Fraser's shoulder. "Nah." Dief whined. Ray sighed and looked down at the wolf. "I said I was sorry. How was I supposed to know they'd be out of doughnuts. I'll make it up ta ya later. Promise." 

The wolf grumbled. Fraser shot a reproving glance at his four legged companion. "After your disgraceful behavior today, you should be grateful Ray thought your services would be useful. I would have left you at the consulate." Another vocalization from Dief, to which Fraser just shook his head. "They make you pay, and pay, and pay."

The computer beeped indicating it had finished its search. It had take just half an hour to find a total of twenty-six private schools in the Chicago area. Of the ten with a uniform requirement, three had blue and gold listed as their school colors. Fraser knew without asking that Ray would want a printed copy. Names, addresses and official contact phone numbers. Ray snatched the paper from the printer eagerly. 

"Vecchio! What are you still doing here?" Welsh's voice startled both men. Neither of them had seen or heard him approach the desk. The look Welsh shot Fraser reminded him of the lieutenant's earlier order to see to it Ray left early. Fraser felt himself flush slightly. //Oh dear.//

Ray folded the piece of paper, stuffing it casually into his jacket pocket. "Just leaving, sir. Me and Fraser just had ta check on a lead."

"I see." Fraser watched as Welsh silently appraised Ray. Fraser thought Ray looked better than he had that morning. The brief nap he'd gotten at his apartment had lightened the circles under his eyes, and his excitement over their latest break through had eased any indication of exhaustion. Welsh frowned slightly. He apparently didn't like what he saw. "I distinctly remember telling you that I wanted you out of here early." Ray winced slightly. Presumably he too had forgotten that order. "I expect to see you at your usual time tomorrow detective. Not before you shift starts. You do understand me, don't you?"

Ray nodded slowly, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. I won't be in until eight-thirty. No problem." Ray finished his coffee, casually tossing the Styrofoam cup into a near by trash can. "Come ahn, Frase. Pitter patter."

They both moved quickly to the door, with Dief hard on their heels. At the car, Fraser was astounded when Ray handed him the keys. Ray almost never willingly gave up the keys.

"You drive."

"Are you sure, Ray?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna need a look at the schools. See if they match my dream. That'll be easier ta do with you driving." Ray yawned widely. "An' I'm tired, Frase. Not a good idea for me ta be behind the wheel. Even I know that."

"Understood."

The first school on the list, Roosevelt High School, was the closest to the 27th district. The main building had been constructed less than ten years ago, and had an ultra modern look to it. Steel and glass, with a large abstract metal sculpture out front. Given Ray's description of an old brick building, Fraser wasn't surprised when Ray just shook his head. 

The second school, St. Anthony High School, looked more promising. The brick building certainly had an air of age about it, and the date above the doorway indicated that the school had been founded in 1870. Fraser parked the car, while Ray studied the building for several minutes. 

"Could be the one. Let's go take a closer look." 

Ray walked casually up to wide front sidewalk. He stopped a few feet from the front door, and looked the area over. Only a few lights remained, and Fraser suspected that since classes most likely were finished hours ago, the front doors would be locked. Ray took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head. 

"Know it ain't much to go on, but it just doesn't *feel* right. I don't think this is the one. Let's check the third one out, see how well it fits. We can always come back to this one."

The third school, LaRue Academy, was situated in a more affluent neighborhood than St. Anthony. Fraser realized he must have learned something from his stay in Chicago, because there was nothing obviously different about this area than the one they had left, but he still knew it was wealthier. The entire area seemed in a better state of repair, cleaner, with slightly wider streets, and less traffic. The main brick building surrounded by a tall wrought iron fence. It did have a historic feel to it, although, Fraser suspected it wasn't really as old as it had been designed to appear. As Fraser parked the GTO, Ray drew in a harsh breath. He nodded sharply once.

"That's the building, Frase. The one in my dream. Let's go check it out."

"Check it out? Ray, it is after hours. The gate is locked, as I imagine the doors are as well."

"That won't be a problem Fraser." 

Fraser looked at his partner sharply. "You're not suggesting that we break in are you? That is a crime, Ray."

Ray shrugged. "I know that the bomb isn't going to go off tonight. That don't mean it isn't already in the building. Best time to look for it would be when no one is around to get hurt. Or ask questions I can't answer. You don't have to come with me if ya don't wanna."

"I'll go with you. I don't like it, but I'll go with you."

Ray flashed a quick grin. "Objection has been duly noted. Give me the keys." Fraser handed over the keys and Ray got out, heading for the trunk of the car. Fraser let Dief out before joining Ray. He watched as Ray opened a black duffle bag. He pulled out two Mag-lite flashlights, and a tightly rolled bundle.

"What is that?" Fraser pointed at the bundle.

"Stuff Manny recommended having on hand when dealing with bombs. Scissors, plyers, screwdriver, wire cutters, duct tape, electrical tape, and a few other odds and ends."

Ray deftly picked the lock on the front gate. At Fraser's raised eyebrow, Ray simple said, "misspent youth. I'll tell you all about it some time." Ray easily picked the lock on the front doors as well. They started their search in the basement since Ray's dream had indicated the suspect was likely to have planted it there. A careful search by both of them and Diefenbaker came up empty. As did the search of every other floor and room. 

"Damn. Damn. Damn." Ray muttered at they worked their way back to the main floor. 

"Perhaps this isn't the right school." 

Ray glared at Fraser. "Oh it's the right school." Ray nodded toward the banner hanging over the entrance. "That's the banner I saw in my dream." 

Fraser ran his flashlight briefly over the banner. Blue with yellow letters. Congratulations Scholarship Winners. Underneath a banquet date and time indicated tomorrow night at eight. Fraser felt a faint chill run down his spine. Shrugging it off he offered, "Then perhaps the man simply hasn't placed the bomb yet."

"I was hoping we'd find it tonight. Get this over with. No one would get hurt."

"I know, Ray, I know." Fraser said softly. He gently rested on hand on Ray's shoulder. "At least we know which school. We still don't know for certain why this man wishes to harm so many innocent people. Tomorrow we could question teachers or the students...show them the sketch you had drawn. Someone might know him...establish his identity for us, or a possible motive."

Ray reached up and covered Fraser's hand with his own briefly. "Thanks. Let's get out of here. We'll get a fresh start in the morning."

****************************************************************************

Ray sighed soundlessly, and leaned casually on the counter. The secretary at the LaRue Academy was being very helpful....at least where Fraser was concerned. Ms. Karchek taken one look at Ray and dismissed him completely, focusing all her attention on his partner. Ray smiled thinly. Every woman, no matter what age, race, or preference, seemed ready, willing and able to express interest in the Mountie. Ray learned sometime ago to just accept that as a normal part of life. And in this case it was proving to be very expedient.

Ray returned his attention to the file in front of him. He had long ago grown accustomed to doing two things at once, so it wasn't hard to listen to Ms. Karchek flirt with Fraser, and read at the same time. She had immediately identified the sketch of the man in Ray's dream as John Daniels, father of Michael Daniels, a former student. When she had asked if their visit had something to do with Michael's death, Ray had quickly answered yes. He let her think it was just a routine follow up. Making sure they had all the details in the right order, that sort of thing. He didn't see the point of trying to explain the real reason they were there.

Ms. Karchek was expressing in great detail just how tragic it was to Fraser that a young man like Michael would commit suicide. She had willingly offered to allow them a look at Michael's file. Fraser had asked so nicely, Ray thought with a mental grin. Like the Mountie could ask any other way. So while Fraser chatted with her, Ray studied the file. Interesting stuff in there. 

"Excuse me, ma'am, but would it be possible for us to get a copy of this?" Ray asked, holding up the file as he did so.

"Well, it really is against school policy to give out such information." She looked at Fraser the entire time.

"It really would be of a great help to us." Fraser offered, after exchanging a look with Ray. 

"Well, I suppose....the poor boy is dead after all. I don't see the harm in giving information to such nice police officers." She flashed a bright smile at Fraser.

Ray shook his head as she readily gave in just because Fraser offered her that big-eyed, earnest, honest-as-the-day -is-long, Mountie look. At this point Ray didn't really care why she made a copy just as long as she did so.

"Thank you kindly. You've been most helpful." Fraser smiled at her, causing the older woman to blush slightly.

"Yeah, thanks." Ray headed out of the office, still scanning the file copy as he walked. Well, at least now they knew who John Daniels was, and thanks to the file, Ray thought he knew why Mr. Daniels might want to blow up the LaRue Academy. Questioning several of Michael's teachers only served to cement Ray's feeling. 

He and Fraser made their way back to where they left the GTO and Diefenbaker. Ray handed the file to Fraser, and grabbed his now barely warm cup of coffee off the dash. He hadn't slept any better last night. In a way last night was worse because Fraser had insisted on driving him home, and then on staying the night. Normally when he couldn't sleep, Ray would dance. That hadn't been an option with Fraser sleeping on his couch. And he couldn't go to work because he knew Welsh would ask the desk sargent what time he came in. Spending hours wide awake staring at his bedroom ceiling hadn't done much for Ray's sense of humor.

Ray waited with sense of frustrated patience for Fraser to finish reading. He watched as Fraser got that confused, thoughtful look on his face. "Okay, Frase, tell me what your thinking?"

"His record indicates that he was a good student. He seemed to excel in his extra-curricular activities...notably football. Ms. Karchek seemed to think he was well liked in school. His teachers all said he was a good student. By all accounts he had no problems at home or at school. Nothing here seems to indicate he would be the type to take his own life."

"That's cause you only heard what they said. Only read what was written. Ya didn't hear the stuff they left out or how they said it. And you didn't read between the lines."

"I don't follow you, Ray."

"He preferred Mike, to Michael. Everything he signed his name to was always Mike Daniels." Ray sipped his coffee. He thought it tasted bad when it was hot, but now it was only barely tolerable. "Everyone we talked to called him Michael. If they didn't know he had a preference about his name, then you can just bet they didn't know much else about him." 

Ray gestured toward the school across the street. "On that print out from last night, ya also got tuition for all the schools. I checked ta see what this place cost. It ain't exactly cheap. According ta his file, Mike's dad was a welder. No way a welder could afford the tuition. File also says Mike got some kind of scholarship ta come ta LaRue. One of those the city offers periodically to under privileged kids. Ms. Karchek said how nice it was for someone like Michael to receive such a wonderful scholarship. " 

Ray moved a hand to make quotation marks around the words "like Michael". "What a exceptional opportunity it was for someone like him to attend LaRue." Ray had altered his voice to mimic Ms. Karchek's tone and inflection. The condescending tone she had taken made Ray want to slap her. "She was saying Mike came from the wrong side of the tracks, Frase."

"Wrong side? I wasn't aware that tracks had a wrong side, Ray."

"Oh, yeah. The side with no money. Kids that go here are old money, Fraser. Families been rich for more than a few generations. Ms. Karchek bragged about the long tradition of this school, an' how most of the students have got someone in the family tree who attended. Fathers and mothers are all lawyers, doctors, and professional types. Kind of people who have yachts, and play golf at country clubs. No way a kid like Mike, no matter what his grades, or how well he did in sports..is ever gonna fit in here. Believe me. Having been married to a Gold Coast girl...I know." 

Ray gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. He knew what it was like to not fit in. He'd dealt with that feeling nearly every day of his married life. One of the reasons Stella divorce him was because his job would never be sufficiently prestidigious to impress her family or her friends.

She was always trying to down play his background and his career. It still hurt to know that she was ashamed of him. That their love was never going to be enough to satisfy her.

"The secretary wouldn't know if he was going okay here or not, cause she barely knew his name. She had a lot of nice things ta say about the school, but she didn't even know what classes Mike was taking. She had ta look at the file. She was busy trying to impress you...so I she never noticed that I saw her look. Most of his teachers barely remember him at all. They didn't tell us a single specific thing about him. It was all general stuff. He was a nice kid, never caused any trouble, always turned in his assignments on time." Ray snorted, disgusted with the people they'd talked to. " I'd be willing to bet if Mike hadn't offed himself, they wouldn't even have known who he was. His family isn't rich, or important, doesn't have a name you need to remember, isn't one of those people ya have to be nice to cause they got money and clout."

Ray took a deep breath, trying not to get angry. "None of them can understand how he could commit suicide. Shit, Fraser, I'm sure damn few of them knew anything about him, except that they thought he was some kind of charity case." 

"You think Michael committed suicide because of how he may have been treated here? That seems like a bit of a reach, even for you, Ray."

"Maybe. I might be readin' stuff into this. My own experiences affecting my judgement." Ray smiled slightly and shrugged casually. "Happened before. But even if everyone here was nice ta Mike, there is no way he would fit in, or feel like he really belonged here. Just look at the cars in the parking lot, Fraser. These kids are driving BMW's and Mercedes. Mike was probably taking the bus."

"I fail to see how that could have any bearing-"

"That's cause you don't worry about status symbols, Fraser. It don't mean anything to you. Kind of one of the things I like about you. But to teenagers, status is everything." Ray held up a hand to stop any comment Fraser was going to make. "Right now it doesn't really matter why he killed himself. What matters is that is his father is the guy in my dream. So lets go check out the address in the file, see if we can catch up to Mr. John Daniels, and stop him from killing a lot of people."

Half an hour later Ray parked the GTO in front of a modest two storey house. A knock at the front door produced no answer. No answer from the back either. Ray raised an eyebrow at his partner before he began picking the lock. He could hear Fraser drawing in a breath to say something. "Fraser, don't start. The guy doesn't have a record, and we don't have enough evidence for probable cause. No way we're gonna get a warrant to search his house."

"Your dream is no justification for infringing on this man's constitutionally guaranteed rights." 

Ray hung his head, shook it once, and breathed deeply. "I know that, Fraser. Right now his rights are secondary. So just shut up."

"Understood."

The first floor looked like a small tornado had happened recently. Dirty dishes were lying all over the kitchen, very few of them were still in one piece. The smell coming from the garbage can was nearly overwhelming. Furniture in the living room was overturned. Pictures hung at odd angles or were lying in smashed pieces all over the floor.

Ray took it all in, slightly bewildered. This wasn't what he expected to find. Why would someone trash the home of John Daniels? Taking a close look at the wreckage, Ray realized it wasn't caused by someone looking for something. It felt more like a case of deliberate destruction. 

The upstairs was in a similar condition. Except for one room. That room had obviously belonged to Michael. The walls were decorated with posters of sports heros, and rock stars. The closet contained several blue and gold uniforms. On the small desk were several textbooks, and a computer. Everything looked like Mike had just stepped out of the room for a moment. 

"What do ya make of it, Frase?"

Fraser was carefully examining the desk, reading a piece of paper placed in the center of an old calendar pad. "If would appear that Mr. Daniels dealt with the grief of his son's suicide in a rather violent manner."

Ray nodded. "Yeah, but why the rest of the house? I mean if he was mad at the kid why not trash just Mike's room?" 

"Perhaps it isn't his son Mr. Daniels was angry with. This" Fraser handed the piece of paper to Ray, "is a note Michael evidently left for his father to find."

Ray read it slowly wanting to commit details to memory. The gist of it was basically how sorry Mike was for disappointing his father. That he never really wanted to attend LaRue, but he couldn't refuse the scholarship. LaRue was never what he wanted, but it was what his father wanted so he'd gone. He had tried to make the best of what he saw as a bad situation. In his letter, Mike explained how hard it had been to fit in at LaRue, how much it hurt to pretend it didn't matter that he was not as well off as his class mates. The final straw had been Mike's failure to receive a scholarship that would have sent him to an ivy league school. He couldn't tell his father he had failed, couldn't face the fact that the friends he had managed to make at LaRue would be attending schools that he couldn't even consider without that scholarship. The only way out that he could see was to simply end it all.

Ray carefully handed the letter back to Fraser. He could understand how John Daniels might have felt reading that. It went a long way toward explaining why his son's room was a shrine, and the rest of the house was all but destroyed. The man had obviously been proud of his son, probably loved him a great deal, but had been blind to the young man's distress.

Ray cleared his throat. "Let's check the basement, Frase. Only place we haven't looked yet."

In the basement they found evidence of explosives, and bomb making equipment, but no bomb. Ray decided against venting his frustration by hitting the wall. Fraser was already shooting him concerned glances, no point in worrying his partner any further. Ray took a deep breath. It sucked being this tired. He felt a bit like his brain had been rewired, and wasn't making all the connections it should.

"So...now what?"

"Our best option at this point would be to stake out the school, and try to spot Mr. Daniels."

"You don't think he'll be back here?"

"I think it unlikely, Ray. He has apparently already constructed the bomb, and if you are correct, then the school is his target. Tonight would make the most sense. They will be officially handing out the scholarships his son failed to win."

"Good point." Ray rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. "Back to the school then."

"Perhaps we should notify someone else, Ray?" 

"Who'd ya have in mind?"

"The bomb squad. They are better trained to handle this sort of thing."

Ray sighed quietly. "I wish we could. But all we got to go on is my dream. And it may not be one hundred percent accurate. And I can't put an APB out on someone who hasn't actually done anything wrong. If we call it in as a bomb scare that could just make him change his plans. Change in plans that I might not dream about." Ray shuddered thinking about what might happen. That the image his dream ended with might just become reality. "Like you said, our best bet is to stake out the school."

Fraser nodded. He never took his eyes off Ray. It was unnerving to have the Mountie give him such an assessing look. Ray forced himself to stand straighter and stare back. "What?"

"Are you sure you can handle this, Ray?"

Ray gave Fraser a warm smile. "Sure. With yer help, Benton buddy, there ain't nothing I can't handle." 

**********************************************************************

Fraser glanced over at his lightly dozing partner. This was Ray's third cat nap. Not one had lasted longer than fifteen minutes. It was unusual for Ray to nap during stake outs. Despite his flippant attitude at times, Ray always took his job very seriously. He knew Ray hadn't slept much last night, if at all. Fraser sincerely hoped that this case would end tonight. He wasn't sure just how much more his friend could handle. With a silent sigh, Fraser resumed his study of the front gate.

There had been a steady stream of people entering the school since six o'clock. Most of them appeared to be parents and students. A few men in suits had arrived just a few minutes ago. Fraser assumed they were visiting alumni or perhaps representatives of what ever organization had actually supplied the scholarship money. It would be easy for anyone to enter the school tonight. 

He spotted a familiar face. Fraser reached over to wake Ray, but realized that wasn't necessary. Ray was already sitting up, his eyes tracking John Daniels. Ray's expression was similar to one Fraser had seen on Diefenbaker when he was hunting.

"Let's go get him, Frase."

It should have been simple to just walk up to the suspect and collect him, but Fraser had long ago realized that nothing in his life was ever as simple as it should be. Even as he and Ray were exiting the car, a large group of students suddenly appeared, heading through the gates. In the mass of moving people, they both lost sight of Daniels. 

Fraser could hear Ray cursing softly as they moved through the gates. It was impossible to run given the number of people, and the fact that they didn't want to draw attention to themselves. Fraser's desire to be polite also limited the amount of pushing and shoving he could do. Ray didn't have to deal with such constraints. He made it to the door before Fraser, but waited for his partner to catch up.

"It only takes an extra minute to be polite, Ray." Fraser stated calmly when Ray shook his head at his partner.

"Yeah, whatever. We know he's headed downstairs somewhere. Better hope we can find him before he sets that thing."

Busy with the scholarship banquet no one seemed to notice as they made their way carefully down the stairs. Fraser was surprised when Ray suddenly stopped, clutching the hand rail, swaying slightly. Concerned Fraser looked at Ray. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily. Fraser reached out a hand to touch Ray's shoulder and was shocked by how tense his partner had become.

"Ray? Are you all right?"

Ray opened his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Yeah. Just got a flash on what's going on."

"You mean a vision?"

"More or less. Better hurry. He's gettin' ready to set the timer."

As they continued swiftly down the stairs, Fraser thought to ask, "You know where he is?"

Ray nodded stiffly. "Saw that."

Ray lead them to a small room across the hall from the boiler room. Ray withdrew his glasses from his pocket, and pulled his gun from his hostler. With a nod to Fraser, he jerked the door open sharply. Just inside the doorway was John Daniels, kneeling beside the bomb, moving to set the timer. Fraser noticed absently that the bomb did look a great deal like Ray had expected it would.

"Freeze! Chicago P.D." Ray trained his gun on Daniels. Fraser watched the man carefully. Not entirely certain that someone intent on doing so much harm would actually halt his movements toward the timer. Daniels looked up, his face betraying very little surprise, only determination.

"Back away from it. Now!" Ray stepped forward. Fraser let out a breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding when Daniels sat back slightly. 

"You're going to have to kill me you know?" Daniels said conversationally, his focus on Ray. "I don't have anything else to live for. Not with Mike gone." 

"You not having anything ta live for really ain't my problem. Takin' everyone in this school with you...now that is my problem." Ray's voice was equally conversational. Under other circumstances Fraser would have thought they could have been discussing the weather.

Daniels sneered slightly. "Everyone else in this damn place deserves to die. If it wasn't for them, my Mike would still be here. All he needed was one scholarship and he was home free. Could have gone to college anywhere with that money. Really made something of himself. But, no. They wanted to make sure that he stayed in the gutter. Couldn't have their precious money given to an outsider."

Ray shook his head. "Mike wouldn't want you to do this."

"How the hell would you know what Mike would want?"

"I read the letter he left for you." Daniels flinch slightly in response to Ray's matter-of-fact statement. Ray stepped forward again, lowering his gun a bit. "All he wanted was for you to be proud of him."

"I was proud of him." Daniels choked out in a whisper. "After his mamma died, he was the only good thing in my life. I just wanted the best for him. When he won the scholarship to LaRue...I thought he'd have a chance to be so much more than I was. A chance to really make something of himself. I knew he didn't like it here, but I just figured he'd get used to it. I thought he just missed his old school, his old friends. Figured it would get better for him eventually. But he never brought any new friends by. Never talked much about any of the other kids."

"Once I came by the school." Daniels face darkened in rage. "He was...was embarrassed. Didn't want anyone ta see him talking to me. His own father. He was ashamed of me. This damn school made my own boy ashamed of me!"

Ray and Fraser exchanged wary glances. Daniels moved forward toward the bomb, and Ray's gun came up again. "Don't." His voice clearly carrying a warning. Fraser began moving away from Ray, trying to approach from another direction. The room was too small to allow for much room to maneuver. Fortunately, Daniels seemed to be focusing entirely on Ray.

"Don't you tell me what ta do." Daniels snarled. "All my life I've had to listen ta people tell me what ta do. It was gonna be different for my boy. It was gonna be better for him. Mike was going to be somebody."

"Mike was always somebody." Fraser stopped moving shocked by the sharpness in Ray's tone. "It ain't fancy cloths, a high priced education, or money that makes you somebody. Believe me, Daniels. This I know. Mike was somebody."

Daniels hung his head for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, the sorrow evident. "I wanted the best for him. I know he couldn't always see that. Said so in his letter. I know I didn't always show it, but I was proud of him."

"I think he knew that. That's why he tried so hard. He wanted for you to stay proud of him. He never wanted to disappoint you." Ray's voice was gentle. "It gets hard trying to live up to expectations. Its hard to always be trying...ta have to push all the time. To feel like giving it your all is never going to be enough. It gets old in a hurry. Ya get tired of always trying ta be something other than who you are."

Daniels looked up, meeting Ray's eyes. "He could have come to me. I would have understood."

Ray nodded slightly. "Maybe he didn't know that. Wouldn't be the first kid who didn't think he could talk ta his parents. Could you talk ta your old man?"

"No. But me and Mike....after his mamma died, we were close. I thought he knew...he could have told me anything."

Ray shrugged a shoulder. "Some things kids just can't tell their parents."

Daniels sat still for a moment, but Fraser noted both he and Ray watched him like a hawk, wary of any sudden movements. "I just was so angry. I wanted someone ta pay for Mike feeling like he had no other way out. I...wanted to blame someone." His voice came out in a strangled whisper. "Someone other than me."

Ray stepped forward again. Now within arms length, he crouched down, eye level with Daniels. "I know. But this ain't right. Mike wouldn't want you ta do this. You know that, right?"

Daniels nodded slowly. "After Mike di...killed himself, I just couldn't think. I was so angry. He said in his letter that after he found out he hadn't gotten the scholarship." Daniels shrugged and waved his hands in an aimless gesture. "I wanted them to pay. Pay for denying my boy. For ever letting him think he might not be good enough. For making him ashamed of me. I wanted them to know how I felt. Knowing my only boy was gone. That every good thing in my life...every damn thing that made any of it worthwhile was gone." 

He sighed deeply, and grimaced briefly. "I couldn't talk to anyone. Didn't know what to say. Got wrapped up in this revenge thing." Daniels waved a hand toward the bomb in front of him. "Neither Mike or his mamma would be very proud of me for how I handled this."

"No, I don't think they would be." Ray's voice was very gentle. "But no one got hurt. No one has to get hurt. For what its worth, I think Mike would have understood. I don't think he'd agree with what you were thinking of doing, but I don't think he'd be unable ta forgive you either."

Ray reached out slowly, and slid the bomb several feet away. Daniels had slumped down, his shoulders hunched, and began crying quietly. Ray looked up at Fraser, and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out his cell phone.

"Frase, why don't you call for someone ta come get Mr. Daniels. Take that," Ray nodded at the bomb, "with you. I'll stay here for a bit. We'll meet you out front." 

Fraser took the phone and watched as Ray enfolded Mr. Daniels in a loose hug. The tension he'd been feeling suddenly dissipated like so much smoke in a strong breeze. Up until that moment, Fraser wasn't entirely sure which way this situation was going to work out. He bent down to pick up the bomb, very carefully, and turned to leave.

"Frase?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Tell 'em no lights or sirens. Don't need that."

"Certainly, Ray."

It was only twenty minutes later when Mr. Daniels was loaded into the back of a black and white. The bomb was being handled by the bomb squad. Ray was swaying slightly as he watched the car pull away. Fraser could almost see the exhaustion rolling of him in waves.

"Ready to go home, Ray?"

"Yeah." Ray handed the keys over to Fraser without a word. Fraser noted with a mixture of amusement and concern that Ray was asleep almost as soon as he was comfortably positioned in the passenger seat. He drove carefully back to Ray's apartment. 

Fraser had also spoken to Welsh when he'd requested a pick up for Mr. Daniels. He'd left out details of Ray's dream, and simply told the Lieutenant that he and Ray had been involved in apprehending a man intent on bombing the school. He'd told Welsh that Ray had received a vague tip about a possible terrorist act several days ago. That had been the reason for his early arrivals at work and his inability to sleep. As he had no concrete evidence to work with, Ray had felt he was unable to confide in his superior. It wasn't exactly a lie....more like a careful editing of the truth. 

Welsh had yelled a bit about detectives working cases on their own. Had made it very clear that he would want to speak to both of them about keeping their superiors informed of any and all work related activities in the future. Vague tips not withstanding. He stopped yelling only long enough to ask if they were both all right. 

Fraser told Ray about the conversation when he'd met him in front of the school, with Mr. Daniels carefully in tow. Ray had just nodded. When told that Welsh had also insisted that Ray take tomorrow off, Ray hadn't objected.

Pulling up in front of Ray's apartment building Fraser shut off the car. He watched his partner sleep for several minutes. With a quiet sigh, Fraser shook Ray slightly bringing him more or less awake.

"We're here, Ray."

Ray nodded. And got out of the car. He was silent the whole way up to his apartment. Fraser followed closely, prepared to catch him if Ray should stumble. 

"You gonna sleep here?" Ray asked in front of his door. He leaned heavily against the wall.

"If you don't mind. I could walk back to the consulate-"

"Nah. Couch is all yours." Ray staggered slightly, and if Fraser hadn't caught him he would have fallen. 

"Easy, Ray."

"More tired than I thought."

"Several days without sleep will do that, Ray."

Ray laughed. "Right are." Ray shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it lying carelessly on the floor. He toed out of his boots, maintaining his balance only because Fraser firmly grasped an elbow. With Fraser's help he made it to his bedroom. It was, Fraser reflected, rather like taking care of an over tired child. It only took a minute to divest Ray of the rest of his cloths. Sighing deeply, Ray laid back on the bed, snuggling into his pillow.

"Be good to be able ta sleep tonight. No more dreams."

Fraser pulled the covers over Ray tucking him in. He glanced up, seeing the dream catcher he made hanging over the bed. He frowned at it slightly. When he'd given it to Ray it had seemed like a perfectly acceptable gift, now he wasn't so sure.

"I'm sorry, Ray."

"What for?" Ray's sleepy voice sounded fuzzy.

"The dream catcher....well, I'm afraid that I didn't realize that.." Fraser cleared his throat.

"Frase, whatever it is yer trying ta say...please get to it, cause I am not gonna be awake much longer."

"I'm sorry for giving you the dream catcher."

"Man, I must be really tired, cause you're makin' even less sense than usual. Yer sorry for giving me a birthday present?"

"Not for giving you a present. Just for...well your latest dream....it certainly couldn't be counted as a good dream. You haven't been able to really sleep in several day because you found it so disturbing. In hindsight is was naive of me to give you something that I told you would ensure you would have good dreams. In my defense, I was unaware of the occasional prophetic nature of your dreams. If I had known that--"

"Frase. Fraser. Benton Buddy. Relax. Not yer fault I dream stuff. Sides...it..." Ray yawned widely, "was a good dream."

"On what do you base that assessment, Ray? You haven't been able to sleep in days because of it."

"Yeah, but like I told Daniels...no one got hurt. If I hadn't had that dream, lot of people could have." Ray yawned again. He shifted and stretched out slowly. "Worth losing a little sleep. Sides dream...catcher..works most of the...time. Was a good gift...great...gift." Another yawn. "Only bad dreams...I..had...since you gave it ta me were...the...foretellin' kind." 

Fraser would have preferred to continue the conversation, but Ray was already asleep. It could wait until after his friend had gotten some much deserved rest. It was enough to know that Ray appreciated his gift, that his friend had believed it did work most of the time. 

Looking down at his partner, Fraser couldn't resist gently running his fingers through Ray's surprisingly soft hair. Fraser remember his mother doing much the same thing when he was little. With a smile, Fraser bent down and kissed Ray's forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Ray. Sweet dreams."

The end.


End file.
